Dobro

I wrote this poem after I got married. It was about my relationship with my new husband and his children and my life taking such a sweet turn. Then when I first posted it here on my blog right after I joined Tribe, it was more to describe to how I felt about Burning Man. But now, after meeting the friends that Cog and I have met from Eon and XSL and other places, this poem has morphed into a poem of love for all of you and how you have had such a profound effect on my life and heart.


It is all so surreal
The way life has arranged itself
My imagination would not have
Taken me around this corner
To peer at a watercolor image of places
And people I never thought to paint
Colors that never occurred to me
Now matted and framed and
Hung on my wall
Their shades run into my own
Their music resonates through my veins
Their light shines through my fingertips
Now more necessary than the air that I breathe
There is no part of me
That is not open
No part
That is not
Open
It is as if I could play that guitar…you know
The Dobro
All along and never knew

Venus vs. Mars

My friend Ivonne who sits in the cubicle right in front of me sent this e-mail to me. It tickled me. Hope it tickles you~

A Woman's Prayer~

Before I lay me down to sleep,

I pray for a man, who's not a creep,

One who's handsome, smart and strong.

One who loves to listen long,

One who thinks before he speaks,

One who'll call, not wait for weeks.

I pray he's gainfully employed,

When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.

Pulls out my chair and opens my door.

Massages my back and begs to do more.

Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,

Knows what to answer to 'how big is my behind?'

I pray that this man will love me to no end,

And always be my very best friend.



A Man's Poem~


I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast nymphomaniac with

huge boobs who owns a bar on a golf course,

and loves to send me fishing and drinking.

This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit.



The End

Letting Go Of Fear

I first read this poem a long, long time ago when I was around 11 years old I think. I have always loved it and believed it with my whole heart as only a romantic, pre-teen can love a poem and it's metaphors. I still love and believe in this poem and it's message. The 11 year old is buried deep, but she is still in there somewhere!

I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me—
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire—
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

~Edger Lee Masters

395 (unfinished)

Going over the mountains
A lesson in endurance, the cold
Wind sliced in from behind
Mount Whitney like a scythe
Come up from Hades, not a fiery sword
But death’s icy dagger stabbing
Its way inward, uneasily forgotten
As hands and limbs thawed and
Souls steamed outward through leather
That offered little protection that day
Fire is good, the ancestors knew
It's life will keep yours, at the hearth
An unknown inn, gracious hospitality
Our lips sipped the welcoming warmth
Only to have the wind’s betrayal once
Again, as we mounted the Fatboy
And rode on down

The other side, greens and yellows
Nature’s way of apologizing
A lake or two, a gift, the sun's
Warmth for a moment as the frozen
Miles slowly melted away drop
By drop, the road signs loosing their numbers
The way I wish that I could
Lose pounds, fifteen or more
At a time, Carson City approached
Then Reno, with its Silver load
Every bar, a saloon, an outlaw town
Wagon wheel history replaced with chrome
Machines, horse-power man-made
We joined the glittering fray

Port Townsend

I felt pretty in the sunlight, face
Turned up like a daisy
Smiling, smiling
Daisy-girl
A velvet bachelor’s button
Port Townsend’s sky curved
Outward, into forever
Boats and bricks
Blooming streets
Full of light, I felt pretty
With you, your eyes on me
Blue like the sea
Our smiles reflected
In a thousand windows, I thought
That I saw, what you saw
And like the golden sky
It stretched into
Forever
A promise, sprung like poppies
Growing on the side
Of the road, red
Vibrant, full
Of life, I saw it there
With you, caught in the
Spell of love, that no one
Cast, just the sky and the light
And your eyes, smiling
Reflecting back, bachelor's buttons
Into forever

Therapy

My Therapist thinks
That it is okay
For me to believe
That he loved me
She says that he probably did
It just wasn’t our lifetime
This time
How could she know this
From just my words?
And yet her advice is warm honey
Down a raw throat
And my rage, which
Darkly lurks beneath the surface
Has been stirred away
A cup of tea
On a rainy day

Gasoline

He told me of his first love, when he was fourteen
A million summers ago when he first laid eyes on her
Riding in the back of her father’s pickup truck
A real beauty, a dark swan, her long neck
Accentuated by smooth hair caught up
In a sleek ponytail, she had on a pair of red shorts
And a Band-aid on her knee
Funny the things that you remember, he smiled
She looked like a displaced ballerina
Or an exiled princess with flowing gowns
Of dust flying out behind her as the truck
Bore down on the dirt road at the corners
Of Main and Belford Avenue
Their glance, he said, was one of a mutual knowledge
That they would meet again
That they would find each other
Over and over, and of course they did
That summer, usually meeting at Delamonte’s
Gas station and store
The only pump in that God forsaken town, he said
The old fashioned kind, that you don’t hardly see anymore
Where a body could go into the cool darkness
Of the little store, it smelled like Popsicles
Which, he informed me, was a relief from the smell of gasoline
That perpetually hung in the air, especially on a hot day
Still, it was almost like visiting your neighbor’s house
Stop for a while, sit on the steps outside
Have one of those chocolate, bottled drinks
Yoo Hoos, I think he called them
That is where they would meet, the sun burning itself
Into their skin and skulls
All they could do was sit, it was too hot to do anything else
Wave at the cars and trucks going by, they knew everyone that was in them
Sit and talk until the sun began its climb down
And hope that some of the purple in the sky would cool off
Their eyes at least
He had his first kiss right there on those steps
The Yoo Hoos between them, just sort of leaned right over
And…
You never forget a thing like that, he said, his eyes squinting
Seeing something from another time
The way the sky looked
And the patch of green, green grass growing
Along the old falling down fence on the side of the road
The sun backlit her hair like a halo and the way
Her lips were so soft, softer that he could have ever imagined
So slow and sweet that first kiss, you never forget a thing like that
He said, shaking his head a little
And sighed, Even now, I think of her…
When I smell gasoline

Only for The Brave

All the years wasted waiting for them to "make it up to you" and all the energy you expended trying to make them change, or make them pay, kept the old wounds from healing and gave pain from the past free rein to shape and even damage your life…

Nothing you have done has made them change…

Indeed, they may never change…

Inner peace is found by changing yourself, not the people who hurt you…

You change yourself for yourself, for the joy, serenity, peace of mind, understanding, compassion, laughter, and brighter future that you get…

In a way, forgiving is only for the brave…

It is for those people, who are willing to confront their pain, accept themselves as permanently changed, and make difficult choices…

Countless individuals are satisfied to go on resenting and hating people who wrong them…

They stew in their own inner poisons and even contaminate those around them…

Forgivers, on the other hand, are not content to be stuck in a quagmire…

*They reject the possibility that the rest of their lives will be determined by the unjust and injurious acts of another…*

Sometimes forgiving was easy for me; sometimes forgiving was a very bold choice…

Whatever kind of choice it was, it always led me to a more peaceful and loving heart…

It always left me happier and free to move on to create healthier relationships with others and with myself...

Blue Speck

Sunset’s apricot, yet the taste of salt
Not sweet on our tongues
Late afternoon fills our lungs
Earth’s windy fingers
Combs back our hair
As we meander along
The edge, at the border
Of land and sea, we rumble northward
Cont i n u o u s l y...........
While diamonds dance
Upon the wet
And sage scrub marches
Across the dry
Toward destinations
Unknown, we fly, our sound
Floats out across the waves
Expansive aquamarine
Movement, moments, fractions
Of day time captured
Weekend boaters turn to see
Where the sound is
Coming from, but
We are just a blue speck
And we keep on riding
Seen, unseen, between routine

Guilt

Please do not wear the hair shirt
For me
Even if I keep handing it to you
Burn it at once
And open all the windows
Or the stench will cover the walls
There are one thousand steps
Leading to my alter
Do not exhaust yourself
Do not make yourself weary
Even when I insist
That you bloody your knees
Crawling up them
There is no need for penance
If you are not guilty
I really don’t mean to
Make you carry a cross
My reluctant savior
Refuse it at once
And throw it down
Upon the ground
Before I start hammering
We should be standing
In bright light
Honest and forthright
On the mountaintop
Not struggling in the darkness
That I have created for us
In the Garden of Gethsemane
I will take this cup
From you
If that is your wish

For Chris~